ellen mcbee

She's always up to something…

Ethnic Nationalism

Today I was up ridiculously early for reasons I can’t remember. I must be getting old.

I was going to check my e-mail, which I still haven’t done, because my computer was still open to the article I was reading about the Ohrdruf camp, which was a concentration camp dedicated to forced labor and a satellite camp of Buchenwald. It was also the first camp liberated by American soldiers. A tour by Bradley, Eisenhower and Patton was arranged. Eisenhower immediately saw the significance; he felt strongly that the camps should be thoroughly documented so that later people couldn’t say that it had all been propaganda and that the camps had not existed. He insisted on seeing all of the facility.

Patton, meanwhile, didn’t see parts of the camp because of his own reactions. And it has been widely rumored ever since that he threw up within half an hour of arriving at the camp.

Anyway, that’s a well-known story. But as I was reading it over, I got to thinking about the nature of antisemitism, so I did a search. Specifically, I want to know why there is antisemitism. And do people really believe in it, or is it a convenient political tool? Because one of the books I’m reading right now is called Hitler’s Willing Executioners, and it’s about ordinary German people who were ingrained with antisemitism, which had been part of western culture for a long time.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by the results of the search. There isn’t really consensus on why antisemitism exists; it might be easier to ask why there is racism, or xenophobia, or why people are anti-Catholic. But I found a link near one of the articles I read that led me to the idea of ethic nationalism. Which I had heard of before, but when I read that article I also found ethnic nationalism compared to civic nationalism.

I’d never thought about the distinction before. Ethnic nationalism means that you think of a nation, not as a political entity, but as an expression of the ethnic group that forms it. So, if you’re Irish, you would think of a nation encompassing people who speak Gaelic, are Roman Catholic, live in Ireland, listen to folk tales, sing folk music, etc. Eventually you think of your nation as people who look like you, talk like you, see the world the same way, and live in the same place. But it also means that your ethnic group is unambiguously identifiable. You are who you were born to be.

And then, there’s civic nationalism, which is not based at all on where you were born or what kind of people you came from. The nation’s power comes from the active participation of citizens. It’s straight from the Enlightenment tradition, with ideals of personal freedom, equality, tolerance, and individual rights. Citizenship is based partly on being born in the particular nation, but you can also become a citizenship by observing the laws and receiving particular privileges in return. You are who you choose to be.

And writing this now, I’m not sure you can have both of these things in the same country. On the one hand you have all these “Nativists,” which is completely ludicrous in America anyway, who think real Americans are of white European descent and Protestants. On the other you have people like me–bring in the immigrants because it makes us all better and stronger. Real Americans vote. Real Americans care about everyone having as many individual rights as they can. Real Americans don’t care what you look like, and so on.

Maybe that’s eventually the root of the culture wars, and why we’re all interested in World War II 70 years later. It’s a question that plays out every day, right here in America.

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Retreat! Retreat!

No, not from Trump not being Hitler. He still isn’t. And, as my brother put it, this isn’t 1930s Germany either. Though I would like to point out that new scholarship in the field (whic…

Source: Retreat! Retreat!

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Stop Saying Trump Is Hitler

This topic has been written about much more eloquently than I can; people who do political reporting are better at this, I suppose. I’ve been seeing an awful lot of this on Facebook and other places around the web, so one more voice won’t hurt, I suppose.

It’s probably an occupational hazard. I have always been uncomfortable with anyone at all being compared to Hitler or Nazis (and DO NOT get me started on the horrifying “feminazi” term–although, to be fair, Rush Limbaugh started that. Karma’s a big old feminist bitch, isn’t it, Rush?). I suppose I can kind of see people who don’t have an in-depth understanding of 1930s Germany could think there were similarities, but we’re getting into Jade Helm territory here. America is not suffering 30% unemployment; it doesn’t already have a non-functioning coalition government. Here’s a secret: the U.S. government functions exactly like it was designed to. The system of checks and balances is supposed to make it difficult to make changes. The country’s founders knew what they were doing; compromise was essential to the government they made.

And think of that. A few years ago I finally went to Philadelphia, and I was RIGHT THERE in the actual place where a bunch of contentious jackasses got together in the 100 degree heat and argued and fought and drank and went out chasing women and owned slaves and ordered their wives around like servants and thought they owned their children and called each other names and disagreed and then…

Then they made a compromise. And they named it America.

Yes, my children thought I was nuts because I was crying. I was in the place where they made America. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

And I trust those guys. Even if they had feet of clay, they had brains of…okay, I’ve got nothing. They had determination. Grit. They didn’t want to see the country they’d just won devolve into anarchy and eventually be re-conquered and occupied.

Do you really think Trump is Hitler? No, you don’t. You don’t think Trump will build hundreds or even thousands of camps all over America and start executing people without due process. And don’t get me wrong; the system isn’t perfect. But do you really think such a thing could happen? Please remember that this government can hardly sharpen a pencil without four meetings, a memo, a few classified e-mails, and a million dollars in insurance in case something goes wrong and the intern sharpens his finger instead.

There was only one Hitler, though admittedly he had a lot of fanatical followers. His rise to power was brought about by economic and social forces we just don’t have in America. His atrocities were brought about by the sudden successes of his military and a lot of people who were personally devoted to him, all trying to outdo each other in serving him. But the catalog of atrocities is long: Babi Yar, Pawiak Prison, Hadamar, Vilnius, Lvov, Treblinka, and it continues. Do you really think Trump being president would result in this?

Do not honor Hitler and his henchmen by comparing them to Trump. This is a complete trivialization of Hitler’s rule. Trump is a showman; if he reminds me of anyone it’s George W. Bush, who was all excited to run for President and then shocked to find out governing is work. Trump is just the latest in a long line of faces: Reagan, George H.W. Bush, George W. Bush, who will really have someone else running the show. He’s no scarier than the rest of them.

Trump isn’t Hitler because America isn’t Germany. And eventually, maybe that’s all we need to know.

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There is no “THEM” in America

For the past few months, I haven’t been posting here. This wasn’t because I didn’t have anything to say but because I have too much to say! Hockey and dance and gym and band and writing and more writing and editing and researching and Bernie Sanders…I have opinions on all of it, and I keep composing these brilliant blog postings that I can’t get posted before I’ve written a new one. But all in my head.

I have close friends back in Tennessee who are friends with people who have formed a Gay/Straight Alliance at Franklin County High School. Now, before I go further, I was born in Sewanee to parents who lived in Decherd. My father and both grandparents were born in Alto. My family in the area goes back to the 1780s and includes Garner, Clark, Crownover/von Couwenhoven, Long, Isbell, Gibson, Dotson, Hill, McBee (obviously) Campbell, and many other families. So at some point I’m probably related to about 3/4 of the people in Franklin County. My grandmother was valedictorian at Franklin County High School in about 1930, when she was fifteen years old. For some reason the people back there think that you have to live there to have an opinion. I haven’t lived there in a long time, so maybe I am already disqualified from commenting, but my connections to the county live on in my family who still live there and the many friends I still have there, plus I was an undergraduate at Sewanee which was my legal residence for the 1990 census.

When I started writing this post, I thought I would have to post about the legal rights of students forming clubs and maybe even write a whole history of the separation of church and state. But, you know, I don’t; I’d be getting at least some of it from easily accessed sources and if you read it for yourself, maybe you understand it better. Suffice it to say that the club has already been formed and a loose coalition of fundamentalist Christians are up in arms about it. Accusing these kids–who just want their own space and their own supportive friends (kind of like a sorority, or the girl scouts, isn’t it? And that’s how it ties in to what I do)–of being “in their faces”, of being non- or anti-Christian, of trying to force their “lifestyle” on good, God-fearing kids. There’s an awful lot of words about “choosing” to be gay, and about “marriage between one man and one woman.” These fundamentalists, whose kids are free to form FCA and after-school Bible clubs thanks to the Reagan administration and the 1984 Equal Access Act, not to mention first-amendment free speech and freedom of assembly rights and 14th Amendment rights, don’t want to allow a GSA because the club offends their religious sensibilities. And I am completely outraged by all of it.

First off, see the title of the post. There is no “them” in America (and, yes, I know that if you spelled out The United States of America, it does indeed include the letters “them,” but that is to entirely miss the point). America is all about banding together and making our own “us.” This is an ideal I first learned in the Franklin County Schools. No, it isn’t perfect; no, everyone hasn’t been historically included, but this is the ideal. For me, this is the reason there is America. To suggest that kids who want to be in the GSA are somehow lacking is horrifying to me. It’s a betrayal of our most cherished ideals.

The second point is related to something else I learned in Franklin County: basic literacy skills (how to interact with text, although not actual reading, which I learned by the time I was four from having people read to me). I have learned an incredible number of things from reading. The vast majority of anti-GSA posters seem unbelievably ill-educated to me; some might have untreated mental illness issues, to judge by their troubling posts. Many seem to think that the United States was founded as a Christian nation, which it was not. Especially in early colonial times, Amish, Jews, Mennonites, Catholics, Quakers, Anabaptists and many others came to the Americas because people would leave them alone here (although the vast majority of people who settled here weren’t religious at all and came to make a quick buck). Anyway, I digress; I’ve learned a lot from reading and reflecting and sometimes writing about what I’ve read, thanks to teachers, many of whom are in Franklin County. And while I can study and learn and have ideas and make connections, I’m never really going to know The Truth. I’m not sure what kind of intellectual snobbery makes people think they do know The Truth. Because, here’s a shocker: the Bible was not written in finished, modern English but in Hebrew (which is written with only consonants) and Aramaic and Greek. These languages all were translated into sixteenth-century English. The words don’t mean now what they meant then! Take a look at a Shakespeare play; the language doesn’t match what we speak now. Wouldn’t basic literacy skills tell you that a translated, much-copied text isn’t going to be accurate?

Last point, which I also learned in Franklin County: one of the worst things you can do is to think you are “better” than other people. I can’t count the number of times I heard that as a child and a young adult; “She thinks she’s better than everybody else,” whether it meant someone’s attitude or clothes or opinions. It was sometimes directed at me because I had a sophisticated vocabulary as a young child (I once used the word “ominous” in a sentence in sixth grade and the teacher accused me of cheating). I personally think it’s a childish, jealous insult, but I’m going to go with it for a moment. To think you are better than others is to assume that you get better treatment and more resources; that your opinion counts for more than others’ opinions.  So, on the one side we have some kids who want to start a GSA and, I don’t know, have a bake sale. It doesn’t matter what the kids want to do in the club as long as it follows the guidelines. On the other side we have some adults (student opposition is oddly not online, though I’ve been told there have been bullying incidents at school) who are saying they don’t agree with the “lifestyle” because it’s an “abomination,” that they “hate the sin but love the sinner,” that “it’s against Christian beliefs.”

In other words, you think you are better than these kids. And that right there is what’s wrong with you.

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I know. I’m a really terrible blogger.

I’m so busy! I can’t believe it! But I won NaNoWriMo this year and I’m in full-on rewrites for What You Stand For. Still working, still writing, still cleaning up the house. And I know I shouldn’t have, but I’ve gotten embroiled in a debate on Facebook, involving the town I’m from and whether it should have a GSA (short answer: yes). More later–I’m working on a big post about church and state and leaving people alone!

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Justice…part 1 of who knows how many?

So, again for those who know me in person, you all know that I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot. I was on a jury here locally this summer for someone accused of a crime (actually, 4 crimes: kidnapping plus criminal sexual penetration times 3). This young man had been arrested in March of 2013 and did not come to trial until August 2015. Meanwhile, he had been kept on house arrest for 19 months.

Now, this was not my first brush with the criminal justice system. I’ve never been arrested, myself (I go to all the wrong parties). But, in no particular order, I witnessed a fatal car accident in which the police were accused of chasing down the driver; had a friend in college who disappeared and whose husband is serving a sentence for kidnapping and murdering her; an in-law who was arrested and jailed for a drug offense; an in-law who was shot and killed by a spouse who also went to prison; a friend who was accused of sexually assaulting a minor (this friend was found not guilty of everything but is still treated as though he were guilty); another person in my life who was accused of stalking a woman. Anyway, I disclosed what needed to be disclosed; but I think you can’t get to be as old as I am without knowing people who these things happened to. Also, I think that at some point these things level out; you really do look at everything with an open mind.

And let me clarify: some of the above were guilty, and they absolutely did what they were accused of doing. Some were innocent but paid for being accused. And that’s mostly what I’m hung up on at the moment.

I keep falling into telling the story of the young man whose jury I was on, but I would really rather cut to the chase. No, he didn’t do it; no, he wasn’t a predator; and yes, a young woman can decide to have sex with a boy she met two days ago and then get mad about it. The horrible part of the story is that he was accused of attacking this young woman and found not guilty after he had already been kept in jail and served 19 months on house arrest.

The police introduced video of his first interrogation. Another horrible thing; the police in this video implied that they were talking to him about taking money (which he knew he hadn’t done), accused him of being gay (which he knew he wasn’t), and told him lies that they had both video and audio of the incident. He told them that the video and audio would clear him of any wrong-doing, and would prove that everything was consensual, which wasn’t the narrative they wanted to hear. And you can see it on the video as this young man realizes that he is in very deep trouble.

Similarly, my friend who was falsely accused of assaulting a student (friend: 5’9″, limited mobility due to back surgery; student: over 6′, rodeo rider, not even friend’s student) was arrested and put into lockup with many other men who were told that he was a “child molester.” I’ve known him all my life and didn’t need to be assured that he had done nothing wrong, but when he went to trial the accuser recanted on the stand.

My point with both of these stories is that not only had the accused not done anything wrong, it was impossible for him to have done what he was accused of doing. And why were both of them deprived of due process and punished for crimes they were only accused of committing?

From here, I’ve been debating the question of what justice really means. Say either of them was guilty, would it have been justice for them to go to prison and be abused in there? Justice was served eventually, but one of them had to leave town and the other one maybe should, since so many people are bent on punishing him by continuing to tell the false story and getting people riled up about him. The best I can do? Not only do I not know what justice would be, I don’t know why anyone trusts the police.

And how it all ties into the book: the Polish Home Army had its own justice system, with its own courts, juries and executioners–about 6,000 executions carried out during the Nazi occupation, according to some sources. Is it justice or terrorism? And can justice from a corrupt official like the Nazis be justice? And what does the American system of justice, in which people have been held without charge and without trial for years at Gitmo, in which you can be secretly arrested and held in a secret prison, say about America?

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How do I do it? I don’t do all of it!

So, I’ve been taking my time on posting on the blog. Mostly because I’m editing and re-writing and deep into getting the book ready, and doing some research. But mostly my Mom life has taken over. My youngest is in dance and gymnastics (and choir and orchestra) and has something every day. My middle child has quit gymnastics but is still doing hockey and band; she and I have big plans for cross-training, should we ever get off our behinds and go to the gym. For my oldest it’s all music.

I’ve written before about my extensive volunteer commitments: marching band, yearbook, VBS. And I’m still married to my husband, although he is gone quite a bit. For my blog this time I considered writing a little about some issues we’ve had with extended family, or about how burned out I’ve gotten on the old volunteer commitments while still being excited about the newer ones. Instead, I thought I might write about commitment.

Maybe I’m thinking about this because I’m old, crotchety, and think the younger generation lives in “planned obsolescence”–not just with their electronics, but with their friends and marriages and other relationships. Except that it’s not just young people who think about their lives that way. And while I think it’s healthy to think about changing your life, and making your world better, I also think that sometimes we do things because we are obligated. Only it’s a bigger idea than that, even: that there’s a kind of achievement in duty, maybe?

Take the marching band, for example. A little over a year ago I agreed to take on uniforming the band. This meant being in charge of uniform fittings and alterations and getting them cleaned. It’s a big job, but it’s finite. Somehow this job evolved into being “the lady in charge of all textiles.” So, for the past few weeks, I’ve been doing the World’s Largest Craft Project: 600 square feet of banners to frame the marching band show and help carry the theme (“Celestial,” or something similar). The fabric I ordered for the project has just arrived, a week later than anticipated, so I’ve had the stress of dealing with that and getting different fabric and getting all of it decorated and ready to go on the field. Additionally, I’ve been altering band pants because the band Won’t. Stop. Growing!

All of that would have been completely unbearable if it hadn’t been for the extensive help I’ve had. It’s not just me; it’s a whole team. I can even tell the team that I’m worried that people will blame me if things don’t go right (high winds meet 5 by 10 foot banners). And do you know what they say? Every single one of them says “No one thinks it’s your fault” and “We’re all in it together” and “Everyone knows you’re doing the best you can.” I was told six times today how pretty the banners are. It’s the most supportive volunteer environment I’ve ever been in. So even though it’s stressful, my efforts are appreciated and I at least try to be supportive of everyone else.

Contrasted with the other volunteer job I do that’s causing me grief…

I’m on a board of directors that has regular, annoying arguments. Complicated ones that involve Policies and Decisions. And it’s ridiculously unpleasant; every few days something new blows up. This is a board that is centered around a kid’s activity. The particular job I do isn’t onerous, but it eats my time. The time I’m supposed to be using to finish my book and start the next one.

But…

I agreed to do it.

And that’s what it has in common with the marching band. I’m just not the kind of person who turns her back on a job I agreed to do, or on anything I agreed to do. Whether it’s a volunteer job that I’m tired of, or a friend who is passive aggressive at me, or even those days that I think, “I’ll just divorce him. I’ll be so much happier.” Or even if one of my kids is stubborn and hard to deal with–I don’t quit. And in my heart, I think people who DO quit–“It’s too hard, it’s not what I expected, it’s not fun!!!” should be ashamed of themselves.

So, a couple of last thoughts from my Mom life, and then I have to go live it.

momIf-Something-is-Broken-We-Fix-It

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Who I Was?

Those of you who’ve been following me know that I write New Adult. I’m trying to be one of those people who are remaking the genre. I think “New Adult” encompasses a whole lot of works that aren’t romance.

Maybe it’s inevitable that I would have to write about high school…which as far as I’m concerned is “the part I had to get through to get to my real life.”

I don’t talk much about my teenage years because there’s not much to talk about. I went to school; I fit in there or not (usually not) for all the same reasons everyone else did. The weird thing is that looking back I don’t think I believed there was something wrong with me; I thought the problem was with amorphous “them”. For one thing, I was super quiet, and that goes back a very long way. I was the kind of quiet that made people either forget I was there, or think I was deaf, so I overheard a lot of things that were not strictly my business. People thought I was stuck up, or conceited, but really I was just very quiet. I was also left-leaning in a farming community, which just made me quieter. But I never accepted the idea that somehow I should change; I accepted instead the idea that I had to grow up and leave.

I know I have some readers who went to high school with me who are already steeling themselves for being attacked. Relax! I don’t think I was really bullied…well, there are some exceptions to that, but I think those people don’t read. They didn’t then, that was for sure! It was more that I was very different from most of the rest of you. More than that, I never really put myself out there to be judged and found lacking. Whenever I did anything unexpected, whether it was wearing a dress or speaking up about being put into an impossible situation (some of you know what that was about and I’m NOT going to discuss it again, except to say that no choice I made was going to be the right one), it seemed like a conspiracy to put me back into the niche you assigned me to. I stopped pushing my boundaries and trying new things because it didn’t feel like it was worth the effort to explain myself or try to get you to see me with new eyes.

At fourteen or fifteen I already understood how different we all were. Did you know how curious I was? That I could tell our lives were different and, though we had grown up together, I really, genuinely wanted to understand? I got to be kind of known for it in college; people portraying me in skits started every sentence with “I wonder…”. Know what else I got known for? I have really great legs. Even my knees are pretty. I’m a good friend, a terrific listener, a great mom, and I’m getting to be a good writer. Not just a talented one, but something even more important: a person who writes, every day.

I started this entry thinking I would write about who I was then, but that’s not really the point. I didn’t find the people who knew me and became lifelong friends until I went to college. There was a whole world out there; I knew it all along. And I don’t and never did look down on people who were happy with what they found back in Tennessee. It just wasn’t for me.

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That Damn Eugenics Research!

Crap. Eugenics is getting inside my head.

So, I’ve been reading for the Polish Boy Scouts project this week, and it’s still exhausting and hard reading. In particular, I’m dipping into “War Against the Weak” with inroads into “Bloodlands.” And then, when I need a little light relief, I’m looking at a book of propaganda posters I just bought. So, yeah, I’m probably in a really horrible mood, which is why I’ve been hanging out in my office this week.

So, the eugenics book concentrates on America, but Edwin Black is the son of Polish holocaust survivors. His argument is that this movement born in America grew to horrible adolescence in Nazi Germany (poetic, huh?). And guess what was eventually at the root of eugenics? Why, American Nativism!

(For those of you who know me in real life, Nativism is sort of “my” topic. If I ever do my Ph.D. in history, it will be on American Nativism.)

So then, there was a weird juxtaposition of real life and writing life when my Facebook feed became completely clogged with posts both for and against Planned Parenthood. In particular, one pseudo-friend posted about how Margaret Sanger thought black people should be eradicated, so I jumped ahead in War Against the Weak to read about her thoughts. She’s often portrayed as an anti-Semite or a racist when in fact she was neither. She became a birth control activist after seeing too many women die as the result of repeated pregnancies, miscarriages, and self-induced abortions. She wanted to prevent those problems by preventing unwanted pregnancy. She wanted women to be in full control of their own bodies.

She was also tainted by eugenics, as were an awful lot of social reformers. She believed in “negative eugenics,” meaning that she thought the unfit should be sterilized. But she also thought the government shouldn’t interfere in family planning; people should be educated on how to prevent unwanted pregnancy and would then be responsible enough to make their own decisions.

Okay, I admit freely that this is a gross oversimplification of her views. She wouldn’t endorse killing people who were retarded or blind or so on, so the eugenics people weren’t as supportive of birth control as she might have wished. And she thought everyone should limit the size of their families, not just poor people and immigrants.

So, here’s the dilemma: is Planned Parenthood tainted by eugenics too? The words we use are that people who can’t afford to take care of children shouldn’t have them. Or that people who are temperamentally unsuited shouldn’t either. Or even that people shouldn’t have more than a certain number of children. In my own awkward way, I guess I wonder if we’re still saying that some people are a “pauper” class (see: the Jukes) and should have birth control so they don’t have more kids. Do we really mean that some people shouldn’t have kids because they are too poor?

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In Which I Go To A Concert

I know…it’s been years since I’ve been to a concert. I was trying to think about that last night.

I went to Weird Al when I was 16 and again when I was 31. I saw Don Henley when I was in my early 20s. And of course I go to high school and mid school concerts, and in the fall I’ll be back in NashVegas to go to National Honor Band, because my son made the band. I go to the free concerts in Los Alamos several times every summer. And I saw…somebody…at the local brew pub. But I haven’t been a real concert-goer, not like the kids I grew up with who went to Journey and Rush and all those 80s big-hair bands and never got over it.

Last night, though, I took my daughter (13!!!) to see Rob Thomas, in Phoenix. Oh, and the hashtag: #2015TheGreatUnknownTour. At least, I think that’s what it is. They really should give out little cards with a hashtag, although I suppose that would defeat the whole wireless/paperless/head in your phone existence we all seem to be going for.

It was a good show in spite of Rob’s bronchial infection. (It’s weird to refer to him by his first name, like I know him or something. I guess that’s something that happens to singer/songwriters? And calling him Mr. Thomas would seem even weirder.) At least he went to see a doctor, so he’ll be getting better. He played for two hours, and talked about songs and thoughts and so forth. And the weirdest thing happened.

In the intro to one of the songs from the new album (I can’t remember which one), he said that some of the best times he’s ever had started with a bad decision. And that one of the themes of the new album is that the bad decisions don’t matter as much as what you do the next day; how you incorporate (or overcome?) the bad decisions you made yesterday.

In other words, it’s what I write about too. From my Scribophile account: “I write about mistakes–specifically I think the underlying message in my work is that you’re going to make mistakes and you don’t have to BE your mistake.”

And when introducing “Little Wonders,” he talked about how we should put down the phone and pay attention to real life. (Which is one of those things I probably say every fifteen minutes.) And then everyone around us lifted up their phones to take pictures and videos.

So I was a little weirded out by the matching philosophy. Whether it’s because we’re almost the same age? Or just that life teaches you if you let it? Maybe it’s not so strange that I like to listen to his music while I’m working.

Yeah, I know. And Nickelback, who mostly sing about getting drunk and chasing girls. No accounting for taste?

Anyway, the set list was varied and included old and new music. “This is How a Heart Breaks” was the encore piece; Rob was still energetic even at the end of the show. He was great fun to watch and I admit I’ve never even imagined “Smooth” without Carlos Santana, but it worked. Daughter had a good time, although didn’t dance very much (most of the crowd was on its feet throughout the show; with her tendonitis and Osgood-Schlatter she doesn’t like to stand for long periods of time). We were both excited that Rob came down the aisle and sang ten feet away from us for part of the encore.

I’d definitely go to see Rob again, either alone or with Matchbox 20. I just hope next time he picks Albuquerque!

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TravelwithIgor

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Tan M Butler

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